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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24365173">let's snuggle forever</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/okapi/pseuds/okapi'>okapi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has Whatever You Want Him to Have, Cunnilingus, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Masturbation, No beta we fall like Crowley, Other, POV Crowley (Good Omens), Post-Episode: Good Omens: Lockdown, Sex with Snake Form Crowley (Good Omens), Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Voyeurism</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:35:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,500</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24365173</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/okapi/pseuds/okapi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley naps in the bookshop during lockdown. </p><p>Crowley/Aziraphale. Fluffy smut.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>246</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Break in Case of Emergency: Fluff and Love, Dick or Treat - Scrohto Region, Merry Month of Masturbation 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>let's snuggle forever</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For the DW 2020 Dick or Treat and the 2020 Merry Month of Masturbation.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Despite the inherent loveliness that was hunkering down with Aziraphale at the bookshop, Crowley soon declared lockdown ‘too boring for anything but hibernation,’ adding, after receiving a reproving look from Aziraphale, that it was slightly less boring than the fourteenth century.</p><p>Thus it was that being formerly Crawley, now Anthony J. Crowley, set his the alarm clock for July, gave his angel a ‘good night’ peck on the cheek, morphed into his original Garden of Eden incarnation, and curled up in his bed, which was tucked away in the darkest corner of the shop. Crowley’s bed was, it might be mentioned, a soft, temperature-regulated, bespoke affair for the discerning, prolonged-nap-loving reptile.</p><p>Weeks, then months passed. Crowley’s slumber went uninterrupted—neither thunderstorms nor emergency sirens nor the noise of Aziraphale’s pottering disturbed him—until one day.</p><p>“<em>Crowley</em>.”</p><p>Crowley didn’t so much as hear his name as feel the faint vibration of it, an ethereal telegraph trembling along invisible wires crisscrossing the ether of the musty old bookshop.</p><p>Sensitive instrument that he was, Crowley recognised the quality of the utterance and was instantly awakened.</p><p>Without changing form, Crowley uncoiled and slithered quickly but silently towards the back room. Upon reaching his destination, he skimmed up the side of a battered armchair colonised by a many-tiered fungus of antique volumes.</p><p>From his perch, Crowley had an excellent view of Aziraphale on the settee. The angel had extended himself lengthwise along a mountain range of pillows and cushions, straddling the peaks. The front of Aziraphale’s trousers was spread to thread-popping tautness, and the corner of one pillow was gripped between angelic teeth as he moved up and down in a short, jerks.</p><p>Anyone who happened to catch sight of Crowley’s eyes, including Aziraphale himself, would have marveled at how much yellow light the pair of tiny orbs gave off, Crowley being charmed, and perhaps aroused, into extraordinary luminescence.</p><p>But there was no one in the shop to notice. And Aziraphale’s eyes were pinched shut.</p><p>Crowley watched Aziraphale’s rutting and rubbing, and as he watched, his scales darkened to the colour of midnight on Alpha Centauri. He raised his hooded head. He flicked his tongue. He tasted an extract of Aziraphale’s carnal indulgence on the air.</p><p>Crowley adored Aziraphale beyond all reason and safety. Seeing his angel as he was then and knowing that it was he, Anthony J. Crowley, who was co-star of Aziraphale’s dirty little lockdown fantasies made the demon’s cold blood run white-hot.</p><p>There was no mistaking the moment when Aziraphale’s orgasm ripped through his corporal form. The sprouting wings were a dead giveaway.</p><p>Aziraphale pushed up on his arms, lifting his chest away from the cushions while grinding his hips even harder into them. White ailerons sprang from his back and flapped like languid groans, groans which Aziraphale’s tightly pressed lips were stifling.</p><p>Finally, Aziraphale’s restraint broke, and he exhaled a dry croak.</p><p>“Crowley!”</p><p>Crowley, by nature and millennia of practice, had impeccable timing, so soon as Aziraphale collapsed limp and wing-drawn onto the cushions, he entered, stage left.</p><p>“Did I wake you?” asked Aziraphale anxiously. “I was trying very hard not to.”</p><p>Crowley slid along Aziraphale’s back until his flickering tongue touched the shell of Aziraphale’s ear. After a long, tickling caress from tip to lobe, Crowley changed.</p><p>“Not at all, angel.”</p><p>Crowley’s human shape lay atop Aziraphale in much the same fashion as his serpentine figure had.</p><p>“I can hardly believe it, but I’m bored,” confessed Aziraphale. “I’ve read. I’ve baked. I’ve even done a spot of cleaning. I’ve made several,” he sniffed, “impulse purchases online. I’ve eaten far too much. And now I’m bored.”</p><p>“You should’ve woken me up, angel. I would’ve kept you company.”</p><p>“Oh, no, I couldn’t do that.”</p><p>Crowley licked and nuzzled at Aziraphale’s neck while his arm snaked round Aziraphale’s waist. His fingers brushed Aziraphale’s hip.</p><p>Aziraphale shifted, rolling slight to allow Crowley’s hand greater access. “Oh, do you mind?”</p><p>Aziraphale wasn’t stupid. He knew very well that what he was inviting was the last thing that Crowley minded, but even as a lover, Aziraphale was very polite (and more than a little insecure).</p><p>“Not at all, angel.” Crowley drew his lips back and forth along Aziraphale’s nape. “I’ll distract you for as long as you’d like. Boredom’s ghastly, especially when you don’t have the hobby of sleeping.”</p><p>“I don’t sleep very often, it’s true. I think the last time was—oh.” Aziraphale relaxed, a whole-body surrendering shudder which would’ve made Crowley’s knees buckle if he hadn’t already been horizontal. “Oh, Crowley.”</p><p>Aziraphale reached back and petted Crowley’s head. It was an awkward gesture, and he quickly dropped his hand and twisted, the better to bring his lips to Crowley’s.</p><p>They kissed, lips never fully separating as Crowley’s fingers burrowed between skin and clothing. He teased Aziraphale to moaning pants, until Aziraphale had squeezed his hand between two strong thighs and then wrenched back round to rut with all the shameless abandon of a bitch in heat.</p><p>Aziraphale gave himself over to the sexual pleasures of a human body the same way he indulged in rich desserts or celebrated performances, that is to say, in a posture of full, rapturous savouring.</p><p>The folded joints of Aziraphale’s wings knocked against Crowley, then retracted.</p><p>Crowley immediately returned to his snake form, the better to allow Aziraphale’s wings to expand fully on the second attempt. Aligning himself perfectly down the centre of Aziraphale’s back, Crowley slipped his tail under Aziraphale’s coat. After a few twists and turns, the southernmost tip of Crowley found a wet orifice.</p><p>Aziraphale spread his legs and lifted his delicious bottom. His wings fluttered. His body quivered. He chanted Crowley’s name.</p><p>Crowley fucked Aziraphale through a second climax, his forked tongue tickling Aziraphale’s neck, smelling and tasting at once. The gesture was a soothing one for Crowley, and, apparently, a suggestive one for Aziraphale.</p><p>“Oh, Crowley, would you mind putting your tongue inside me? I’ve missed you so. I need you so.”</p><p>Crowley had never been good at denying Aziraphale, and he wasn’t about to start.</p><p>It was true he could do weird things with his tongue, but he could do wicked things, too. The latter he applied to Aziraphale, coaxing him along a third wave of pleasure.</p><p>When Aziraphale’s wings folded, Crowley resumed his position and his human form.</p><p>“Too much weight?”</p><p>“No, it’s perfect, you’re perfect.”</p><p>The last was patently untrue, but Crowley didn’t care. What did give him pause was the timbre of Aziraphale’s voice. He sounded unwell.</p><p>Concerned, Crowley craned his neck. Then he stared incredulously at his beloved’s expression.</p><p>“Aziraphale, are you <em>sleepy</em>?”</p><p>“Mm.”</p><p>“Well, I’ll be damned, twice,” murmured Crowley with no little awe, “I’ve fucked my angel to sleep.”</p><p>“Don’t be so smug, you wily serpent.”</p><p>Aziraphale’s mumbled admonishment was too late. Crowley was already feeling very smug, indeed.</p><p>“Stay.”</p><p>Of course, Crowley stayed. He wasn’t going to miss watching Aziraphale sleep.</p><p>Twenty minutes later, Aziraphale was awake again. In the meantime, Crowley had made a decision.</p><p>“You know what, angel? Those horrible commentators are right. This is lockdown is turning everything upside down. You’re taking a nap, and I’m feeling, well, just the tiniest bit peckish.”</p><p>“Crowley!” Aziraphale sat up abruptly, requiring a hasty rearrangement of bodies on the settee. “Really? I’ve been baking. I’ll bake you something.”</p><p>“Nothing fancy, angel. Or too ample.”</p><p>“My griddle cakes are quite good. The lads who tried to break in to steal the cashbox said so. Maybe just one small cake, with currants, of course, and the thinnest layer of clotted cream on top?”</p><p>“No jam, angel.”</p><p>“No, no.”</p><p>Crowley envisioned, correctly as it turned out, Aziraphale’s own stack of griddle cakes piled high and layered with cream, jam, butter, and anything else which caught the angel’s fancy, but Aziraphale looked so excited at the prospect of baking for Crowley and Crowley eating what he’d baked, that Crowley didn’t say more. He simply basked contentedly in the warmth of Aziraphale’s joy.</p><p>“Oh, and Crowley?”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“One of my impulse buys was a posh coffee machine.”</p><p>“Really?!”</p><p>“It looks so complicated that I haven’t even taken it out of the box. Oh, and I traded <em>Biggles Goes to Mars</em> for a bag of Ethiopian Harrar beans.”</p><p>This was for him, Crowley knew. Aziraphale would happily make cocoa on a gas ring for the rest of his days. Crowley was the one who liked coffee. When they dined out, it was often the only thing he ordered.</p><p>Crowley drew Aziraphale into his arms and planted a hard kiss on the angel’s grinning lips. “You’re too good to me. You captain the stove, and I’ll get the coffee brewing.”</p><p>“Aye, aye, sir!” Aziraphale stood and began to set his clothes to rights. “Oh, and Crowley?”</p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p>“When we’re done, maybe, we could, oh, I don’t know, snuggle?” He added hastily, “if it’s not too boring.”</p><p>“Not boring at all, angel. Let’s snuggle forever. Or at least until the end of lockdown."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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